Point of No Return
by p-e-n-n-n-a-m-e
Summary: Hawkeye senses something disquieting in the newest doctor to come through the 4077th.


His name was Captain Elliott. Captain Ethan Elliott. The predominant memory that Hawkeye took away from their first meeting in Colonel Potter's office was not the sound of the rain rhythmically drumming on the roof, or the credentials that Colonel Potter was reading out of the kids skinny 201 file. The memory was of a thought that zoomed through his head in a split second, but provided him with amusement that adequately distracted him from the proceedings; the kid's parents were either certifiably insane or incredibly stupid for giving their kid an awful name like that.  
  
The reason Hawkeye wasn't listing to the briefing was that he didn't care. There had been so many fresh doctors coming through the 4077th in the past few months,most young enough to have been snatched from their medical school cradles. Hawkeye really couldn't be bothered to care anymore. They came and they got "front line experience", gumming up the cogs of his perfectly run O.R. with their questions and second thoughts and split second hesitations that cost lives. By the time they were starting to get dependable, they were snatched away and reassigned. God only knew where.  
  
Although Hawkeye didn't really like these green doctors, he put up with them, with only a minimal amount of ribbing or trouble. Again, the reason he didn't take the time to know them was because he didn't care. He was eternally worn out. Sick and tired of everything, and now with the 4077th turning into a regular subway turnstile, he couldn't take the time to be friendly with every person who came through. It sapped too much of his valuable emotional energy.  
  
Anyway, for some reason Hawkeye couldn't put his finger on at first, although he had managed to put up with every other trainee doctor, for some reason he didn't like Ethan. It was a visceral reaction, and when the colonel decided to put the new kid up in the Swamp, Hawkeye got a bad feeling.  
  
BJ didn't feel the same way. He told Hawkeye that Ethan was just off-putting because he was so quiet and reserved. He rarely ever spoke, and this voluntary silence disturbed Hawkeye, who had always been the camp motor mouth. BJ thought the reason they didn't get along was because they were so different in the ways that mattered most to build any sort of relationship.  
  
The small town experience Hawkeye had as a child clashed with Ethan's New York City upbringing. Hawkeye was loud and could be belligerent; he dealt with his problems through verbal conundrums and word play that he bounced off the other members of his residence. Ethan was extremely private and introverted. Hawkeye had never heard Ethan start a conversation. However, what bothered Hawkeye more was the thought that Ethan was not simply non-verbal, but that he was incredibly smart and not showing it. His bright green eyes were always watching and were the wells of emotion he never voiced. Hawkeye hated those eyes, they were so disquieting. As if they saw and understood everything about a person. Inside and out. Several times Hawkeye had suggested to BJ that they call in Sydney, just to look at the kid. He's repressing something, Hawkeye had said. To which BJ laughed and said that Hawk worried too much.

Apart from their internal differences, they could not have been more physically different. Ethan was short, about Radar's height, but looked borderline emaciated. He just never ate. And although he received some teasing for it in the mess, the lack of calorie intake never seemed to bother him, or affect his work, so the gang dropped it. His hair was blond and formed curls that always seemed to be half an inch too long. His face was always pale and harried, as though he existed in a constant state of internal turmoil. The combination blond hair and pale skin gave Ethan a washed-out look. Ethan's emotions were always painfully obvious, which contrasted greatly with Hawkeye's well constructed poker face. Their sheer physical difference had been comically noted by every person on duty in the O.R. the first day they worked together on a head wound patient. Margaret had even offered to get Ethan a box so that he could see "eye to eye" with Hawkeye. After quietly shaking his head, Ethan proceeded to do the best job Hawkeye had ever seen on a head wound.  
  
So maybe that had something to do with it. Maybe he was a little jealous. This kid who never spoke, rarely smiled, and never laughed was undoubtedly the best surgeon Hawkeye had ever seen. And that included himself. After confessing this to BJ, Hawkeye had then said something along the lines of, but if I had to be as unwaveringly serious, intense, and misanthropic, I wouldn't want his skills. That was what concerned Hawkeye so much about Ethan. That was why he was difficult to deal with. Hawkeye couldn't stand the anxiety that always pervaded any room Ethan walked into. And there was never any outlet for it -- it just built.  
  
After a few months, his demeanor began to bother the others as well. And Hawkeye led the crusade to get him transferred. Why was it that the only green doctor who stayed more than a few months was this brilliant idiot? He's a damned good doctor, Pierce, the colonel said, and we need him.  
  
Finally it happened. The kid with the perfect score lost a patient. Ethan had done everything to keep the kid alive. He was working on his own now, and without the nervous cries that doctors usually used to give orders as their patients neared the point of no return, no one knew that the patient was gone until the nurse wheeled him out.  
  
They scrubbed up in silence, Hawkeye watching the kid out of the corner of his eye.

"Why didn't you say anything!" Hawkeye finally broke out in frustration. "We could have helped you!"  
  
"There wasn't anything you could do." Ethan intoned quietly, his voice wavered.  
  
Hawkeye cursed loudly and turned off the water to dry his hands. He was about to storm out when BJ caught his arm.  
  
"Look." BJ whispered and inclined his head towards the sink where Ethan was still scrubbing.  
  
There was steam rising out sink. The water had to be boiling hot. Ethan was running his hands under the scalding stream of water rhythmically. Up the left arm, then the right There was no soap anymore; just the pale skin on the skinny arms which Hawkeye was imagined reddening with the promise of a serious burn. Ethan was staring so intently into the sink that it made Hawkeye's heart jump.  
  
BJ and Hawkeye watched on in macabre fascination until Ethan turned the faucet off, calmly dried his burned arms and walked past BJ and Hawkeye straight out the door, across the camp and into the Swamp.  
  
"I guess he does have an outlet after all," BJ mumbled.  
  
"Yeah," Hawkeye frowned.

Maybe I'll finish this later, it was just a character sketch experiment.


End file.
